Royal Holiday (The Wedding Date, #4)(47)

She glanced at him and sighed.

“I can see what you’re thinking, and yes indeed, my ex did throw me surprise parties on more than one occasion, and yes, I hated them every single time, and yes, we did get in fights after every single one, because I didn’t appreciate everything he did to throw the parties. But those parties were about him, not me. It took me a long time to realize that.”

He kept running his fingers through her hair.

“Was this Maddie’s dad?”

She nodded.

“Yeah, Maddie’s dad. He and I broke up when Maddie was little, but we’d been together for a while before that. Granted, we broke up thirty years ago, but I guess there are some things that stick around.”

It felt ridiculous, but she’d never connected the dots before about her hatred of surprises and the way her ex always reacted when he threw her those surprise parties. She always had to apologize to him when she didn’t enjoy them, when he knew she hated them.

She looked back over at Malcolm to see how he was taking all of this decades-old baggage she’d just dumped on him.

He didn’t seem fazed at all.

“Well, I can promise a few things: There will be absolutely no surprise parties. I will tell you what to wear—within reason, to be clear! You can wear what you want, but I can give you . . . guidelines, how about that? And you are under no obligation to appreciate or thank me for any of this—remember, if we do it, it’s because you’re doing me a favor, not because I’m doing one for you.”

She laughed at that, but he looked serious.

“No, really, I mean it. Please feel free to tell me that actually, no, you want to approve everything, and I’ll be happy to tell you. But if you don’t, I know that it’s because you’ve taken pity on me and my dreadful week, and I appreciate it.”

She kissed his cheek.

“That’s not the only reason. It’s also because I trust you. You can have your surprises, but I’d better get those outfit guidelines!”

He laughed.

“Okay, I promise. Now”—he looked at his watch—“I scheduled a private tour of Buckingham Palace for us at ten thirty today. I’m happy to call to cancel if you—”

“Seriously? A private tour of Buckingham Palace?” Maddie was going to DIE when she told her. “They said they weren’t doing any tours right now!”

He grinned.

“I may or may not have some pull in that area. Is that a yes? Do you want to go?”

She jumped out of bed.

“What time is it? Are we running late? I take really fast showers.”

The smile on his face was so wide and warm she felt it down to her toes.

“It’s only nine, so we have plenty of time. We can toss your suitcase in the boot of my car and bring it to my flat afterward.”

She smiled back at him.

“Perfect.”

A little over an hour later, they drove down the wide street with parks on each side that led up to Buckingham Palace.

“This is called the Mall,” Malcolm said. “On days like Trooping the Colour—the Queen’s official birthday celebration—and other big royal events, people line it on all sides. It’s pretty stunning.”

Vivian looked around and smiled.

“We have a Mall in our nation’s capital, too.”

Malcolm glanced over at her with a grin on his face.

“Where do you think you got the idea?”

She continued, as if he hadn’t said anything.

“Though ours leads up to a center of democracy, not monarchy.”

Malcolm laughed out loud.

“Sometimes, progress isn’t all bad.”

They got closer to the palace, and Vivian looked up at the enormous stone building. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to get to go inside. Malcolm pointed to the top of it.

“No flag—that means, if we had any doubt, that the Queen is not in residence.”

“Oh good, I don’t have to worry about running into her again. I don’t think I’d be able to keep myself from curtsying a second time if we were inside a palace, and my American ego can’t handle that.”

Malcolm was still laughing as the car slowed, and he . . . Good lord, he just pulled right up to the gates of the palace.

When he said they’d drive there, she’d thought . . . Okay, maybe she hadn’t thought about it at all, but she definitely didn’t think they would just drive up to the actual gold-tipped ornate gates of actual Buckingham Palace like they belonged there.

But then, she supposed they did.

Vivian looked around, and there was a crowd of people standing by the gates, staring into Malcolm’s car. She kept herself—barely—from giving them a beauty pageant wave, and instead looked straight ahead. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face, though.

Malcolm held up his badge to show the guards, and they glanced at it and waved him through.

“I can’t believe I was just in a car that drove into Buckingham Palace,” she said. “I didn’t take any pictures because I didn’t want to embarrass you, but please know I wanted to.”

He put his hand on hers and smiled at her.

“I’m honored by both parts of that sentence.” He lifted her hand and brushed it against his lips. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”